


Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 11:11:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17466476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: How do you know when leaving is the right thing to do?  How do you know when it's time to start thinking about yourself, your own future?   And once you do, the question is, just how do you go about it?  There might be fifty ways, at least, but which will serve the purpose best?  That is one of the questions Craig Garrison now has to ponder.





	Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This one actually came from the muse complete with theme music: 'Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover' lyrics - Paul Simon
> 
> The problem is all inside your head she said to me  
> The answer is easy if you take it logically  
> I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free  
> There must be fifty ways to leave your lover
> 
> She said it's really not my habit to intrude  
> Furthermore, I hope my meaning won't be lost or misconstrued  
> But I'll repeat myself at the risk of being crude  
> There must be fifty ways to leave your lover  
> Fifty ways to leave your lover
> 
> You just slip out the back, Jack  
> Make a new plan, Stan  
> You don't need to be coy, Roy  
> Just get yourself free  
> Hop on the bus, Gus  
> You don't need to discuss much  
> Just drop off the key, Lee  
> And get yourself free
> 
> She said it grieves me so to see you in such pain  
> I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again  
> I said I appreciate that and would you please explain  
> About the fifty ways
> 
> She said why don't we both just sleep on it tonight  
> And I believe in the morning you'll begin to see the light  
> And then she kissed me and I realized she probably was right  
> There must be fifty ways to leave your lover  
> Fifty ways to leave your lover
> 
> You just slip out the back, Jack  
> Make a new plan, Stan  
> You don't need to be coy, Roy  
> Just get yourself free  
> Hop on the bus, Gus  
> You don't need to discuss much  
> Just drop off the key, Lee  
> And get yourself free

It had started off as 'alternative duty', one foisted on him after a mission that had led to them coming back with absolutely everybody being on the 'laid-up' list. For a change, Craig Garrison had been the least damaged of the lot, actually the only truly ambulatory one of the five.

While he had fully expected to be given extra duty while he recovered, this was something different than an additional stack of the translation work or map coding or other such that he'd been assigned in the past. It was even different from the solo missions he'd gone on a time or two in the past when his team had been out of the picture for one reason or another.

Frankly, he wasn't all that comfortable with the notion, since this new assignment had him out and about, up in London, working with a new group that wasn't even really overtly military-connected. His concerns ranged from security issues to time management to his unspoken but quite sincere concerns about just how much trouble his guys could get into with him gone. Yes, even in the shape they were in, they were still more than capable of mischief, and he was always the one who had to sort things out!

His clear apprehensions had been brushed aside by Lord Franklin, even as the details were more clearly outlined.

"Think-tank? Shawton? I'm afraid that's rather out of my line of expertise, sir."

It was apparent that the man seated behind that desk was rather taken aback by Garrison's knowledge of the so-called 'think tank' (nicknamed, most irreverently the 'thinker-toy group') at Shawton, but he recovered quickly. 

"No, no, not there. But that is hardly the only group of experts being put together, Lieutenant. They will each have their special area of concern, of course. This new group is called Jtech, and will be the first with a more broad base of intellectual scope behind it. What you might call a more subtle approach to dealing with making sure our country goes in the right direction after the war. A prolonged war has such unforeseen possibilities for political and societal changes, Lieutenant Garrison, and while some of those are beneficial, many, indeed most are not. It will be the job of the men of Jtech to make sure the United States chooses the beneficial changes only, does not allow this war to turn it in unfortunate directions."

When Garrison again expressed his reluctance, protesting his military duties, he was again delivered a rather stern lecture.

"Oh, come now, Lieutenant. It is not only the here and now, the war and everything connected, that is of importance. We have to think of afterwards as well, and it is organizations, groups like Jtech that will be vital to our security, to the security and well-being of your country. Why, you might say this is your patriotic duty, just as much as your wearing that uniform is."

Garrison wasn't sure about that. and was more than a little concerned about getting deeply involved in a project that looked far more long term than the (hopefully) brief time his team would be on the 'laid-up' list. The fast shuffle he'd gotten when he'd brought that subject to the floor made him wonder just a little if there wasn't something else going on. Still, he'd gotten the assurances from Lord Franklin that, of course, he would be returned full-time to his regular duties once his team had been declared ready and available.

"Well, if that is what you want, when that time comes. Who knows, my boy, you might just find this your true niche, you know? I imagine this could lead to some very attractive possibilities, now and after the war. Strong, capable leaders will be much in demand, you know - in government AND in the private sector."

Garrison spared a thought to what Lord Franklin was doing making a pitch based on American patriotism, since Franklin and his dual citizenship seemed to have landed firmly on the British side of things, but shrugged. He had more important things to think about, anyway, like how to explain things to his wildcard cons, and what measures he could put in place to make sure they stayed safe, sound and out of trouble while he was away making nice with this odd conglomeration of players.

He did think of one last question, "and how did my name come up for this slot, sir?"

The answer was one he had not been expecting.

"Why, your godfather, actually. Seemed to think this might be just the ticket; said you're rather wasted where you are right now. Thought it might be good for you to have a break, get a feel for where else your talents might be valued."

"My godfather?" wondering just what General Abernathy was up to now. {"It would have been nice of him to have given me something of a heads-up before dropping me in the soup like this!"}

He was more than a little stunned to hear, "yes, Dr. Holmes gave you a very high recommendation. After having met you, I have to say I agree with Stuart. I think you will find this quite to your liking, and you to ours."

Stuart Holmes had been a very close friend of his father's, but godfather? Of course Craig remembered him, quite well in fact, remembered all the long, solemn conversations the two men had held, but he couldn't remember the man ever having looked at either of the Garrison kids, much less having spoken to either of them. Godfather? 

Somehow this became much more interesting, something he just might want to hear more about. And all of a sudden this Jtech had become not 'they', but 'ours'? 

Lord Franklin gave a laugh at the look on Garrison's face, "well, he did say he wasn't around to fulfill those duties as often as he would have liked; said he doubted you would even remember the relationship. It would appear he is right. However, he has the utmost confidence in you; says he knows your parents raised you to do your duty, and he has kept an eye on you through the years." He paused to light his pipe.

"You were thinking General Abernathy, perhaps? No, no, although we heard he is also your godfather. Stuart says he doesn't recall that, but that he himself was only present in spirit due to other duties. We DID consider asking General Abernathy's opinion, of course, but he is not in London at the moment. And there was Major Johns, of course. He's been tapped for this, as well, and he thought you would find this experience as a consultant most edifying, perhaps give you a new outlook on a number of things. He thinks you have considerable potential as well."

{"Thank you, Major Johns!"} Garrison silently fumed. 

Resigned now to at least going along for the moment {"not like I seem to have a choice!"}, he sat there and wrote down the particulars - who he was to initially meet with, where, when.

"And the team? Who will be in charge while I am gone?" 

"Why, I haven't a clue, Lieutenant. I'm sure your chaps will be taken firmly in hand however your superiors think it best. You just focus your attentions on Jtech and your new responsibilities there. I'm sure it will be just fine."

When he DID meet with Major Johns, and Major Richards, and then with Jtech's representative, he felt a little more relieved, and a great deal more interested. It seemed that, contrary to Lord Franklin's understanding, Garrison wasn't being totally removed from the team even temporarily; this was to be in conjunction with his duties to the team.

As he left the final meeting, Craig brought himself up short, thinking - {"In conjunction with my duties to the team? What, I'm supposed to schedule Jtech sessions around the missions? The missions that half the time we don't get back from on schedule? The missions that come up on just a few hours notice? Just how the hell is THAT supposed to work?"}. That would take some serious coordination between his dual responsibilities, some careful planning. He wasn't sure how that was going to be possible, not and maintain strict security over classified information. That momentary feeling of relief was turning to one of sincere apprehension once again; but then he shrugged, {"well, I'll manage, somehow. Lord Franklin was right about one thing; this is a unique opportunity, one I just can't pass up."}

But it seemed to all work out, better than expected, at least at first. The men expressed their enthusiastic, unswerving support, at which Garrison rolled a skeptical eye. {"Probably thinking of ways to turn it to their advantage. Here comes trouble!"}

Meghada had presented him with a rather elegant briefcase in honor of his elevated status as what she termed 'consultant'.

"My prospective publisher gave it to me, said it would look better if I brought my manuscripts to him in something other than brown butcher paper and string. Never used it, never seem to remember it before I'm halfway to his office, of course. Shame to leave it sitting gathering dust, Craig. Quite the thing for an up and coming executive-type like yourself, though - the finest steer hide with a moroccan leather lining, complete with brass latches and everything. I even tucked in new record books for you, just the type you like for a new venture - mileage recorder, appointment book, notebook, journal - all your usual, but with bindings fine enough to match the briefcase. We do want you to be successful, you know." 

She'd even pointed out the extra small gift inside, pointing out its features, made a few pointed comments, and Garrison had felt the barb at the end of each quite easily. Yes, his missing Chief's birthday dinner was still a sore spot evidently.

She'd smiled brightly the whole time, but with a tinge of amusement (mixed with one or two other less pleasant emotions) on her face, and of course, the guys had been their own mocking selves. Still, it was a useful gift, and one he made sure to make full use of. He noted that his case was just as expensive and appropriate as the others in the room at the Jtech meetings, even got more than one or two looks of envy.

He'd even found Lord Franklin, present at several of the meetings, fingering it a time or two, running his hand over the exterior, eyeing the interior with interest when Garrison had opened it to retrieve his notebook and pen.

"Beautifully appointed, I must say," he'd been told with a smile, noting everything strapped securely in place inside. "I'll have to keep that in mind for when I replace my own. Was that a small personal recorder? I hadn't realized they made them quite that small."

Garrison had laughed and reopened the case, drew out the leather bound rectangle, turned it over to reveal a book embossed with his name and the words 'Holy Bible'.

'No, it's a joke from a lady, though I'm not so sure it was a joke entirely. She seemed rather, well, annoyed when she gave it to me. See, this end flips up and folds back, and there is a personal appointment book, with the pop-out calendar AND an embedded watch face, complete with a tiny alarm. You see, I had a briefing run overtime, and I totally forgot I had a personal engagement, and . . . . Well, she had more than a little to say about that. THIS is to remind me that I have OTHER calls on my time. She even had it made special to match the notebooks I prefer to use whenever I have a project going."

Lord Franklin raised his brows, "surely she understands the war and your duties take precedence?"

"Well, she says she does, but I'll admit between the war, HQ and all the meetings there, my taking on these meetings as well, she's starting to make noises about my making it clear where she stands in my priorities. Hence the 'Bible', delivered with a terse comment about a man and his 'religion'."

It was with a wry smile that he added, "truth is, of course, she's right, but I'm not quite ready to admit that, at least to her. She lives very close to my base of operations, and has one hell of a temper; it could get unpleasant. Besides, it's nice to occasionally have some female companionship, even as casual as ours is, one you don't have to worry about being an enemy agent or anything. She can be a termagant at times, but she's not THAT, for sure; quite loyal to the cause, without doubt."

He gave a small rueful laugh. "What is probably amusing in retrospect, the personal engagement wasn't with her, not as such; it was a small birthday celebration she had planned for someone else, but she was as offended as if it had been for her." No, she had NOT been happy about him missing that dinner she'd put together for Chief's birthday, not in the least. Well, neither were the guys, even though Chief hadn't seemed to expect anything in the way of an apology other than his brief, "sorry, got tied up."

He had to admit, he was impressed with Jtech, and not just the elevated calibre of the men directing the meetings or his fellow newcomers (with the exception of Major Johns, who just wasn't his cup of tea.)

Their level of planning and organization was quite professional. The surroundings were quite elegant; the office he was assigned was remarkably well-appointed and wouldn't have brought a frown to the most discriminating. He'd been told, "for the times you are with us, Lieutenant; we DO want you to be comfortable and at ease. In fact, feel free to use it anytime you are in London, for whatever the reason; we shan't mind a bit. The phones, all else, are at your disposal, of course."

Equally as pleasing was the extremely attractive secretary at his beck and call.

"Louise Chapin, Lieutenant Garrison. If you need anything at all, I am at your disposal, of course," the more-than-pretty young woman with soft brown hair and blue eyes had told him. She'd offered to bring him up to speed on the more unofficial goings-on at Jtech, and he'd gladly taken her up on that, over a leisurely dinner in the visitors'-room (the only place females were allowed) at the gentlemen's club where he'd recently become a provisional member.

He'd found himself highly impressed with her pleasant personality, her acumen, and her skills, and she'd seemed equally impressed with him, AND the slightly musty, old-fashioned but certainly exclusive surroundings into which he had escorted her. 

Their conversation had gradually drifted from the business to the more personal. In fact, at her rather shy inquiry, he found himself admitting that, "well, there was someone I was, well, AM seeing, casually, you understand. But increasingly I have realized we just don't suit each other all that well, not well enough to venture further. Amazing I ever let myself be tempted in the first place, actually, not at all someone I could, how do they phrase it, 'take home to mother'; quite the contrary! Well, I suppose the war had a lot to do with it; sometimes you lose track of where you are, where you belong, you know." 

When she had made sympathetic noises, tried to draw him out further, he'd flushed, "well, it's not important. I'd rather learn more about you," and the evening had been all that either of them could have expected for a first date. 

Later she'd admitted that she had had a similar experience, "I was rather taken with him, but once I could see how impossible it all was, well, then it was a matter of deciding how to win myself free. Actually, when I sat down and thought about it, it wasn't so difficult, there were so many different options, probably fifty ways if you wanted to get overly detailed, all equally viable. In the end, the only truly difficult part had been the initial deciding, and the rest was quite easy. I'm sure you will find it so as well." 

The warmth he felt at her soft, sympathetic words was something he really couldn't have articulated. When it went from being a semi-business dinner to a date, he wasn't quite sure, but he WAS sure that was how it ended up. The first, hopefully not the last; it held the promise of being important, somehow. And he had to admit she did have lovely blue eyes.

Of course, just as he had anticipated, before long there were issues, most of them surrounding his team of cons who just seemed to go out of their way to throw up roadblocks and problems. It seemed they felt some underlying resentment at his other activities, perhaps felt a little threatened by them, or so it appeared. When they went to the pub anymore, he found himself sitting at a table by himself, sometimes joined by the redhead from the cottage, sometimes alone.

That last mission, the one he couldn't seem to get off his mind, when they'd decided to pull a lucrative little side job, somehow thinking he wouldn't be any the wiser, was just the latest example of how things had changed. When he'd called them on it, their reaction was more than their usual wry acknowledgement that he'd been too smart for him, was almost belligerent, certainly defiant. He'd rather lost his temper, forgetting the presence of Sergeant Major Rawlins and newly-assigned Private Matthews, being more intemperate than he normally was in his admonitions. Even Actor had been sullen afterwards, and Casino had made his opinion well known to the guards during the practice on the firing range AND on the obstacle course.

"Laws, they let him get away with calling his Lieutenant all those bad names? And the others, either joining in or at least not shutting him up? Can't imagine he'd much appreciate hearing all that, their officer, I mean," Matthews had asked, quite shocked at all he'd heard. 

Gil Rawlins had cleared his throat, gave him a warning look, "best you keep your tongue to yourself. They're just blowing off steam, as the Yanks put it," though he gave a worried glance back at the Mansion, hoping Garrison was out of ear-shot. The sight of the tight-lipped officer standing not ten feet in back of them was NOT reassuring.

Meghada's unwanted and highly inappropriate interference when she'd overheard that explosion during her delivery of a basket of what Garrison had loudly declared with a wild wave of his arms, "those 'let's spoil them again, shall we' treats" had been the final straw, and he'd had Private Matthews escort her to the door and to her car.

"And be sure when I want or need your opinion, Meghada, I'll ask for it," he'd told her rather crisply at their parting. The look he got in return let him know he would be getting a cool reception from her in the immediate future, and he ruefully set aside any notion of a pleasant little visit to the Cottage, or even a companionable drink together. 

{"Ah, well, I'm sure Louise won't mind accompanying me out to dinner again, and perhaps maybe even . . ."}

Louise didn't mind one bit when he'd made the phone call, had even hinted at the notion before Craig had the right opportunity to suggest it himself. This time it was dinner at a small hotel, and a slightly shy ambiguous suggestion was turned into an almost as shy acceptance, and Craig found himself at the front desk, reaching out his hand for the key to a room he'd been optimistic enough to have secured earlier. 

First, though, a drink in the bar, a couple of slow dances on the small dance floor to the music provided by the piped-in music. There was the continuation of the low conversation they'd started earlier, much meetings of the mind, light teasing touches when their bodies pressed a little closer together in order to accommodate other dancers.

It was a great disappointment, you could tell by their joint frowns and annoyed sighs, when the man from the front desk came to break up the party with a regretful, "I'm sorry, sir. A phone call for you; I'm told it's urgent." A quick summoning of a taxi and Louise was headed back to her flat, and Garrison headed to HQ, thinking SOMEONE needed to work on their timing! He'd actually been about to get somewhere positive, he'd been sure of that! Damn it!! That the 'urgent' matter had been anything but urgent, (important, certainly, but hardly urgent), that had elicited a few telling words from him.

Now, a few evenings later, sitting at a side table in the bar of the elite gentlemen's club to which he had been an invited guest on a few occasions, had even received a provisional membership, he mused over the most recent difficulties. His glum, even worried face attracted a few casual stares, but nothing dramatic; everyone had their own troubles.

"Yes, whiskey, please, Charles," he said absently. The waiter brought him his drink and presented a dinner menu and waited patiently for the young American officer to make his decision, which didn't take but one impatient glance down at the offerings. 

"Just whatever can be done quickly and looks good; I'm too tired to decide." There was a underlying snap to those words, not his usual pleasant tone.

"Very good sir," Charles intoned, refraining from rolling his eyes at the lack of attention to something as important as dinner. Still, the young man was pleasant enough, most times anyway, so Charles wouldn't palm off the worst of the offerings from the kitchen on him. There were a few who, if they'd offered that same offhand comment in that tone of voice, would have ended up with the scrapings from the returned plates! Oh, well, perhaps not, but the fish that smelled a little off, certainly. 

"Alone this evening, Garrison?" came from the British officer with the silver-grey eyes standing in front of the table.

Garrison blinked, bringing his attention back to the present. "Yes, care to join me, Major? I warn you, I'm not in a pleasant mood, so I don't know how good company I'll be."

"Yes, well, I'm looking for a meal and a drink and someone other than my sister to take them with, so I'll not be too demanding, I assure you. Julie is being rather irritating right now, trying my patience more than usual; I can't imagine what goes through her mind sometimes! If it's not her outlandish ideas, it's expecting me to be at her beck and call for whatever socializing she finds attractive. Seems she's finding the war and my responsibilities connected to it rather tiresome. Almost as tiresome and unacceptable as I am finding her companions these days."

That got a sigh of shared annoyance, "I can understand that! The guys are going to drive me out of my mind, and what little they leave intact, Meghada seems intent on finishing the job. I'm being pulled in all different directions, have more responsibility all the time, and THEY keep coming up with the most ridiculous hijinks! And believe me when I tell you that is a very benign word for some of what they've gotten up to! I'm about ready to do what Major Kingston suggested, dump them in the brig and leave them there til I need them for a job! Well, not Meghada; I'm pretty sure I couldn't get away with that, but still, it's tempting even for her! She can be so utterly . . . .!!!"

Kevin Richards nodded in a very understanding manner. "I have to admit, although your team is really much more effective in the field than I'd originally anticipated, it must be quite a strain dealing with them on a continual basis when NOT in the field. I never have understood how you managed it with even a modicum of equanimity. As for Meghada, well, my nerves have calmed down considerably now that I'm not having to deal with her so frequently. I now consider myself extremely fortunate that she made it painfully clear at the beginning that I was her Handler, nothing more, and for me not to get any notion otherwise. I'm sure I don't know how you manage having her live so close, meddling in your business. Such totally odd ideas; I sometimes wonder if that isn't where Julie is picking up some of her nonsense."

They shared a companionable drink, called for another, which a different waiter, one hovering solicitiously close at hand, brought promptly, Charles having been tied up with a rather unseemly argument in the preparation area between two of the new busboys. Their meal followed in good order, and the conversation continued. It seemed they both had some grievances to air.

"And it's one thing for me to accept and understand, even appreciate, the skills the guys bring to the job, it's something else to overlook and discount all the rest totally like she does. Oh, I'll admit, I was finding myself leaning in that direction mself; after all, they are personable enough, even likeable, when they make the attempt, and it's easy to fall into the trap. Luckily, they can't keep it up, the act, I mean, so I was disabused of that misapprehension before it was too late."

"But it's like she doesn't see that it's like everything else with them, a false-face they put on, just like the cons we pull when we're on a job. It's as if she takes it for real. Why, she walked in while I was giving them hell for trying a little job on their own, thinking I wouldn't notice, along with some blatant insubordination in front of the guards, and who did she get upset with? Not them, I can tell you that!!! I had to ask her to leave and she wasn't any too pleased with me about that, either. I imagine I'll have a cold welcome there for some time!"

"Luckily, I've met someone much more agreeable, less bizarre in her notions, which I have to admit I am finding quite pleasant for a change. I'd forgotten what it was like to have a quiet dinner and dancing with an attractive woman who didn't insist on arguing or taking me to task."

He flushed, "I'm lucky Louise came along when she did; you'd never believe how far off track I was actually getting. It's embarrassing even to think!! Of course, it might be a little awkward disentangling myself, but I'm determined to do that without delay. Louise and I have a date on Friday a week, if I'm back by then, and I'd like to know that I'm, well, free, if you know what I mean. Still, I doubt there'll be too much fuss; I rather hold the whip hand there; I've made sure of that."

The new waiter, Gordon by his name tag, carefully refilled their coffee cups, inquired about another drink, and eventually presented the chit to be signed. The men lingered for awhile, still commiserating with each other.

"Perhaps that IS where Julie is getting some of her odder notions recently. Perhaps it is time to sever that tie; sometimes a connection has outlived its usefulness, particularly if it's going to give my younger sister the false impression that, just because I must associate with the less desirables because of my job, that means I find them acceptable social companions, for myself OR for her!"

Garrison admitted he'd been thinking much the same.

"By the by, Garrison, have you given further thought to merging your men in with a couple of the other groups? At least while you are busy with other affairs, and perhaps then on a more permanent basis? Perhaps they are another connection that has outlived its usefulness, especially as involved as you are now with your other endeavors. I believe Major Johns has made some mention of that. He seems rather enthusiastic about that new project the two of you are working on together."

Richards took a appreciative sip of his drink. "And there has been considerable talk about your joining us as a Handler; it's a lot of responsibility, of course, keeping track of multiple assignments at once, but Lord Franklin seemed quite in favor of the idea. You know he has connections in a number of places, at various levels; has quite the influence. He thought you were quite capable of handling it, a Handler position, from what he's seen of your interaction at Jtech, and I must admit, I do as well. Once you have the men of your team settled elsewhere, of course."

Craig Garrison paused, then admitted, "that thought HAS crossed my mind recently. Ainsley's group, maybe Davis's too; it would be a good fit, and they're both strong enough leaders to keep the guys in line, most likely."

"Well, the men had better make sure that's the case; if we move them over and it doesn't work out, well, there's always the alternative, you know. Back with them to where they came from; there's aplenty more who'd be eager for the opportunity, after all."

"Well, I'll think about it some more. For right now, though, I don't have time to focus on that; too much else going on. And speaking of that, I have a meeting in about an hour, so I have to be headed out. Looks like another job in the lineup, something big. I have to admit, it's getting hard to keep things separate; I found myself making notes in the wrong notebook the other day, the Jtech one, had to scratch things out and start over in the right one. I'd tear the page out, but I doubt anyone could read anything anyway, and it's a shame to spoil the whole notebook; it's leather bound, you see, quite nice. I'll just need to be more careful. Found myself with BOTH notebooks in my case this morning; I can't understand how that happened." 

They made their farewells, Garrison hurrying out with Gordon following to locate the officer's coat. Richards sat there, thoughtful, over another glass of whiskey Charles brought him.

"I am sorry to have had to neglect you and the Lieutenant, Major. I hope Gordon provided adequate service? He's rather new, but came with excellent references. One of the Lords connected with Whitehall, I believe," Charles stated with a professional smile.

"Oh, yes, I believe so, Charles. I imagine he did his job just as he ought. I admit, I wasn't paying very much attention; too caught up in our conversation, you know."

 

They'd never expected him to turn on them like that, like all they'd gone through together hadn't meant anything. Oh, they were used to him yelling a lot, giving them those lectures; they expected that, after all. Still, none of that had stopped them from taking advantage of the various opportunities that came along, and even when they'd had to pull the plug on one because he got wise, he'd still taken it all pretty much in stride - yelling, lecturing, but still, in stride. 

Now, it had changed. And it hadn't been a hard and stunning blow that they could have perhaps seen coming, have countered in some way; it was like he was gradually being weaned away from them. They'd never imagined it could happen, that a fancy desk, a fancy paycheck, fancy friends, a charming woman could make him deliberately decide to walk a different path. But gradually over the few weeks he'd been involved with that 'detached duty', he'd changed, their relationship had changed.

Well, it was one thing for him to figure out their little side-job and yell at them; they'd halfway been expecting it when they saw that glare just before they put the plan into action. But the threats to break up the team, that and possibly more? 

Goniff had tried to reason it through, tried to make excuses. "Well, if we took it like 'e was jamming US, maybe 'e figured us trying to pull that little job was us doing the same to 'im, ya know? Not saying we give up the side jobs, mates, just that maybe we be a little more choosy about which ones we try. That one WAS really pushing it, you know that as well as I do. No real surprise 'e caught on and got pissed."

Well, Goniff did tend to try and softpedal Garrison's harsher moments, just like Actor did. Hell, even Chief and Casino were willing to give him a break, as much as they could, Chief more than the safecracker though. He might be an officer, an occasional pain in the butt, but he was THEIR officer, THEIR pain in the butt. They made allowances for him, just as they made allowances for each other.

Not that all that seemed to be doing them any good, not anymore. After all, it was Goniff, their resident pickpocket, of all people, who got that hard take-down over a cheery, only half-way meant offer of "could go along with you to your fancy meetings, Lieutenant. Wear something all business-like, pretend to take notes and such. Add to your consequence, most likely, 'aving a personal assistant and all."

The harsh rejection of that teasing offer was unexpected, including as it did a rather contemptuous breakdown of Goniff's general faults, appearance and behavior, "and I hardly think that is the impression I'm inclined to be giving anyone, especially this group! AND I have a date afterwards, and I would hardly want you hanging around for that!"

Goniff had blinked rapidly, obviously taken aback, and had gone dead quiet for the rest of the evening. For Actor and Chief, who knew the deeper relationship, it was perhaps as shocking as it seemed it was to their resident pickpocket. Even Casino, pretty much oblivious, was left with his jaw hanging open.

There were one or two other little incidents, and the word got around, and it was a fast downward spiral, one many at HQ looked at with some smug self-satisfaction. The words sped through the halls "always knew it" "showing their true colors" "about time Garrison wised up" and much more. Major Johns was walking around with a very knowing, smug look on his face, and Major Kingston was a little envious that he hadn't been invited to join that little group that was producing such changes in his fellow officer.

 

The raid on the Jtech offices, led by a grim-faced Major Kevin Richards and several others took everyone there by surprise. Garrison was witness to the whole thing, from the doorway of his fancy office. He'd spotted Louise Chapin making a beeline for the stairwell door, and had reached out and snagged her by the arm.

"Now, there's no need to rush off, Louise. I'll be happy to introduce you around. Though I'm afraid our date for dinner tonight is off. I have another committment, you see; a long-standing one I simply cannot, indeed, have no desire to break," and she looked into those pleasantly smiling green-eyes, felt the iron grip on her wrist, and her own blue ones widened as she realized she and her friends hadn't been the only one running a con.

It took some sorting out, but with Garrison's help, and the help of Gordon, the Jtech plant at the club, they were able to determine who were the leaders, the players and the, um, 'playees'. Jtech, set up to explore interesting, very subtle ways to obtain secure information, information they thought to put to good and most profitable use, was no more. Dr. Stuart Holmes had been among those gathered up, as was Gordon the 'waiter' at the club, along with Private Matthews from the Mansion. All in all, not a bad haul, if a little time consuming in the delivering.

Major Johns was suitably chagrined to realize he'd been the victim of not one, but TWO masterful cons, the first by that up and coming organization that had promised so much, then by Lieutenant Craig Garrison, the latter destroying that group, lock, stock and fancy desks.

He was rather appalled when he saw Garrison remove the 'CRAIG GARRISON, CONSULTANT' nameplate from the desk, polishing it with his sleeve and tucking it into that fancy briefcase Johns had been so envious of. Garrison had caught that glance, but only smiled and said, "a little souvenir. Who knows, I might be able to use it some day. I might be doing a little 'consulting' after the war, who knows?"

He made sure to pick up his fancy briefcase as well, the one with the recorder built into the very structure of the piece, activated by a simple touch to one brass triangle on one corner. Meghada had been right, the obvious place for a recorder had been in that 'prayer book', and once that had proven false, no one had looked any farther. Now there was more than enough evidence on the various small tapes, more than enough to back up his testimony of a variety of skullduggery by the group.

Back at the Mansion, the team waited anxiously for the final outcome of the solo mission Garrison had undertaken. They'd been given details, updates, as things progressed, but only during the times Garrison had led the team across the Channel, for security's sake.

"And is it not a deplorable state of affairs, Craig, when it is safer to discuss such matters in enemy territory than in our own?" Actor had commented, shaking his head in disgust.

A drink together, a solemn handshake all around, once Garrison returned from London, and a joint feeling of relief that maybe now things could get back to normal.

Much later that evening, a quiet, not quite so solemn a welcome awaited with the young woman at the doorway to the cottage on the outskirts of the village. Garrison entered, delivering a warm kiss to Meghada's cheek. He looked around and hesitated, til he heard those words he was waiting for - "took you long enough to get 'ome; come 'ere then" from the figure perched on the arm of that big armchair. Moving to drop into the chair, he'd smiled to feel warm arms enfold him, a warm chuckle in his eager ear, a soft touch of lips against his hair. 

"Let's not do that again anytime soon, ei, Craig?"

"No," Garrison shuddered, looking into those blue eyes, remembering the harsh words he'd had to say, had to hear, the isolation from those who really mattered, the fake smiles of his new associates, the sweet and oh-so-false pretending of attraction between him and that cunning woman, "not anytime soon, Goniff. Hopefully not ever!"

"I'm inclined to think that's one pretty little con that can only be played once, Craig," Meghada said, handing him and Goniff each a drink before settling down in the other chair with hers. "I doubt any will be so trusting in your naivete or susceptibility again." 

Garrison thought of the men and women currently sitting in jail cells, awaiting either military or civilian trials, and realized she was probably right. And that was fine with him. If nothing else, and there was plenty else, it had shown him clearly, though not for the first time, that his future was with his resident pickpocket, a redheaded Dragon and the rest of his wildcard cons. And he had to admit, the look on Major Johns face, at various times, had been something to remember, something to describe to his guys, their Dragon. He was sure they'd all get a real kick out of it.


End file.
